


Find What You Love and Let It Kill You

by Metallic_Sweet



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: (you were dead until you weren't), Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, F/M, Missing Scene, POV Second Person, Unrequited Love, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 14:43:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metallic_Sweet/pseuds/Metallic_Sweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have no more firsts left.  No more to give.  No more to offer.  </p><p>No more than just what you are.</p><p>(you're done)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Find What You Love and Let It Kill You

You'll die

(alone, she says)

 

_Yesterday, upon the stair,_  
 _I met a man who wasn’t there_  
 _He wasn’t there again today_  
 _I wish, I wish he’d go away_

 

This is a funeral.

There are five things you notice.

 

**one.**

Falling.

(you've done this before)

 

**two.**

Patrice.

 

**three.**

He doesn't want to die.

 

**four.**

Pain.

(but that's nothing new)

 

**five.**

The sky.

It's very blue.

 

_Go to sleep my baby_  
 _Close your pretty eyes_  
 _Angels up above you_  
 _Watching very closely from the skies_

 

When you were fifteen, all scraped knees and bitter leftovers in the refrigerator, you dreamed of darkness.

What no one knows, no seems to realize, is this:

You were never afraid of the dark.

 

"Borrowed time," the waves whisper, up and down the shoreline. "Borrowed. Borrowed." A great sigh. "Borrowed time."

 

_There are no goodbyes_  
 _for my dog who has died,_  
 _and we don't now and never did_  
 _lie to each other._

 

Her home.

It even smells like her.

 

When you look in the mirror, when you look at the scar, when you dig in beneath your skin and pull out the fragments, you think:

Well.

(all is well)

 

_Catch a falling star and put in your pocket_  
 _Never let it fade away_  
 _Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket_  
 _Save it for a rainy day_

 

You feel tired. Tired of fighting, tired of running, tired of loving. Being tired of all that comes with it. With life.

It's not a good place to be. You know that.

(borrowed, the waves had whispered; borrowed time)

 

You bare your throat. The blade slides upwards. You smile.

You were always one to take risks.

 

_and once you were a little boy_  
 _and once you had a dream_  
 _and once you were a man_  
 _because, once, you had a gun_

 

What you love will always hurt you.

In that last moment, you'll scream out. Your lips will part, and you'll scream aloud all the words and gasps and wails you never let yourself own. You'll scream

And scream

And scream

And then you'll be done.

Because you have no more firsts left. No more to give. No more to offer.

No more than just what you are.

(you're done)

 

Hey, says the voice in your head.

Hey.

Wake up.

 

_International rock star_  
 _That would make the pain go away_  
 _The last one standing at the bar_  
 _Is the dream that'll have to do for today_

 

You never thought of yourself as a victim.

You hope, somewhere deep and secret that no one has yet managed to carve out of you, that you're right.

Because if you aren't, how the hell are you meant to live with that?

 

They all look so young.

They all look so old.

 

_A clock is ticking but it's hidden far away  
(I could do most anything to you)  
Safe and sound, safe and sound_

 

You're alright.

You're fine.

The face in the window, the voice in your ear, the ghost against your skin: it smiles and tells you to believe just that.

 

Maybe one day you'll crawl out from that hole in the wall. You'll blink up at the sun, at the clouds and the mist your breath makes in the air. You'll close your eyes, and you'll see their faces, together, against the skin of your eyelids.

(or, maybe, you'll just crawl back in)

 

_Burned are our homes, exile and death,_  
 _Scattered the loyal men_  
 _Yet ere the sword cool in the sheath,_  
 _Charlie will come again_

 

Once, when you were very young, you fell in love for the first and last time.

You were five, maybe six, and the air was chill and frosty. She had flaxen hair, thin fingers, and an even thinner smile. But her eyes.

Oh, God, her _eyes_.

You could spend your entire life looking into her eyes.

 

Don't, you want to say. Please, don't.

(wait for me)

 

_An evil prayer rose to my lip_  
 _"Lord! This my soul's relief,_  
 _To hold her slender hands in mine,_  
 _And know her secret grief."_

 

They clean your wounds, tape your ribs, wrap you up in a blanket. They tell you to sit here and stay put and not to try to leave. You won't get away with it. Not this time.

Sit. Stay. Lie down. Take.

Take.

Take.

 

"You haven't slept."

Your heart is pounding in your throat. Overhead, the light is too bright. It's fluorescent and it hums and it's driving you crazy. You listen to high heels get up, walk away, come back.

"They're discussing tranquilizing you."

Let them, you want to say. You would make it sound uncaring, or maybe you'd make it sound vicious. But your heart is trying to crawl up out of your throat, and your jaw has locked up on itself, and you are

So

Damn

Close -

The needle in your neck is almost a relief.

(you are used to pain)

 

_And faith_  
 _It drives me away_  
 _But it turns me on_  
 _Like a stranger's love_

 

The man looks up, across the desk, and those eyes look nothing like hers.

(yet here we are again)


End file.
